


Availability

by scoottt



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoottt/pseuds/scoottt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's have dinner. SH</p>
            </blockquote>





	Availability

It had been a grand while since Mrs. Hudson had come around the flat. Dust, oh so eloquent, was building up around the various skulls and other knick-knacks that lined the room. Upon the kitchen table still lay to rest one of Sherlock’s experiments, accompanied by his usual microscope. Unknown liquids were spattered on the table, as well as the walls and floor. In the sink were the few dishes that actually went towards civil use, rather than to hold amputated phalanges or objects of the ocular sort. Home sweet home.

In his usual chair that paralleled Sherlock’s, John Watson sat with his laptop cradled on his legs, one of which lie over the other to create a pocket. Soft clicks and clacks sounded as he typed, typed away on his blog. The latest case needed to be logged, and now was the perfect time. Peace and quiet, while Sherlock was out on some minor case. Luminescence from the screen dimly lit John’s face as he sat in the shade of the curtains, half opened. His typing only did stop when a familiar beep trilled from within his pocket, startling him just in the slightest.

What were you thinking for tonight? SH

Ever the softest smile played upon John’s face as his eyes soaked in the pixelated text. Sherlock never did seem to realise how he came off in texts, so interested, for a lack of better words. Interested in something other than his work, which took up a great deal of his attention—nearly all of it. The nimble fingers that once tapped upon the laptop’s keys now generated a reply to the text waiting for him.

Typing up this case, presumably. JW

With a hit to the send button, he returned to the casual retelling of the previous case. The blog, however silly, brought in much traffic, giving them cases aplenty to deal with. This kept Sherlock as close to a happy emote as the man could manage, which in turn kept Watson happy.

Let’s have dinner. SH

Do we really have the money now? JW

Their spending never got all too frivolous, mostly being spent upon the cabbies needed to get from point A to point B. Nearly all of the money went towards the cases and the expenses that came with them. Just a fraction went to commodities, but that was quite all right. The thrill of a gunshot in the night or a chase through an alley was all that they needed to get by.

All of the money in the world, John. SH

If you say so, then yes, let’s have dinner. JW

Looking at his laptop screen, his eyes scanned over the entry, to find a definite “yes” in its completion. There was something missing, something to further captivate, harbour questions that really got one thinking. Setting back to typing as he waited for the telltale ping that was a text from Sherlock, he let his mind replay the events that had his adrenaline pumping, allowing his fingers to get those words into the computer. Watson strived to make each post in his blog better than the last.

See you soon. SH

Brilliant. JW

John moved his laptop to a table nearby, tossing his phone into the chair where he previously sat. There were clothes to change and hair to spiff up, and so many things to do. On his abandoned laptop, his brilliant recollection of their previous case still showed. 

_Sherlock, I miss you, don’t be dead. Just for me, please be alive - just one more miracle. There are so many cases we have yet to solve. I miss you, Sherlock. Where are you? I miss you, please don’t be dead. Don’t be dead, for me. I can't deal with this, I need you, Sherlock._

And as he went off to the flat’s bathroom, he didn’t hear the little chime of his phone.

_[This number is no longer available.]_

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, the feels while writing this.


End file.
